Divine Intervention
by At A Venture
Summary: Buffy must defeat The First Evil. Castiel pops in to lend a hand. Follow up to Valhalla
1. Chapter 1

(A/N: Sequel/follow up to Valhalla, Spoilers thru Buffy Season 7)

**Divine Intervention**

_Chapter 1_

Darkness penetrated the hallways, still alive with the smell of fresh paint. Buffy opened her eyes slowly, breaking a seal of coagulated goo crusted over each eyelid. Her single moan of pain escaped from her lips, only to die flatly on the ugly beige linoleum. She blinked once, twice, and pulled her forearms up underneath her chest, pushing aside stray particles of broken stuck to her cheek, her chin, her earlobe. There were chunks of it in her hair, standing out like snowflakes amongst ribbons of blond. Flying through a window was less than a pleasant experience, and how had he even managed such a thing? He'd thrown her off guard, literally. Clearly, Caleb was not all together human. Raising an eyebrow at the crack in the cement wall, Buffy pushed herself at last to her feet. Pain shot down one leg, enough to make her wobble where she stood, limp when she walked. Shadows played on the broken lockers, the open classroom doors. They seemed to jeer as she fumbled toward the exit.

Revolo Drive was barren, as empty as every other street in town. Now that the Hellmouth was on red alert, ready to pop open like a beer can (_Yeah, a beer can of evil_), the happy-go-lucky, completely oblivious residents had picked up shop and run out of town. Some things had been easy to ignore over the years: mysterious plagues of insanity, missing persons, family members that turned up dead one day and oddly alive (_but pale and bloodthirsty_) the next. The Bringers and Caleb and the high number of ooky deaths was too much, even for the people of Sunnydale. Only a few houses remained occupied-the sort of people that stayed during nasty hurricanes or after major earthquakes. They holed up in their homes, turned off all the lights, paced in front of the doors and windows with sawed-off shotguns. At the Summers' camp, they did a lot of the same things, but with the lights on. It was easier to see the bad guys coming that way.

Squares of yellow light, punctuated with human-shaped shadows, spilled onto the dewy front lawn. Giles was still sitting at the dining room table, going over Caleb's thick police file. In the living room, a few people sat on the sofas or paced around the room. Upstairs, someone sat on Joyce Summers' old bed. Buffy gathered her arms around her, hugging herself across the chest. The back of her neck pricked just slightly, a feeling she had come to recognize after eight years as a vampire slayer.

"You should be inside," she murmured authoritatively.

"Buffy Summers," the man said without inflection. His voice was neither guttural, as in an attack, nor flat and devoid of feeling. It simply was. And what is was was unrecognizable. It wasn't Spike or one of the girls. It wasn't Xander or Dawn or even Caleb returning for a second round. Buffy turned, throwing her body level to shoot out one long leg in a roundhouse kick. It was a move that should have put her opponent off his guard, a move that should have hit his arm or shoulder or head depending on his height. Instead, the man grabbed her by the ankle and held on.

"Okay…" Buffy frowned, narrowing her eyes. She used his hand to kick from and threw her body backward in a flip, landing miraculously on both feet without so much as a sign of earlier injury. Putting up both fists, she glared at the man in semi-darkness. Light from the house revealed half of his dark figure, but he was hard to gauge.

His sharp blue eyes were unavoidable, as stunningly blue as an ocean or a sapphire or the sky on an incredibly clear California summer day. They illuminated the rest of his face like those annoying ultraviolet headlights. He had a clean-shaven face, but his eyes were tired and looped with an insomniac's wrinkles. Dark disheveled hair framed his pale face. He wore a blue striped shirt with a collar, a couple of the buttons undone at the neck. The sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow, as though he'd been cooking dinner or moving something heavy. A pair of wrinkled khaki pants completed the look. Buffy cocked an eyebrow at the handsome but peculiar man.

"Okay," she smirked, "Bible salesman?"

"Excuse me?" He asked, clearly confused.

"Hey, I get it. You're a lackey. I don't know what it is with this creature feature. He's got a thing for the clean on the outside, mentally disturbed on the inside thing. Let's just do the fight thing, okay? I want to take a nap."

"The First…" The man frowned, twisting his head to one side.

"Big Bad, Bringers, Seal of Doom, yada yada." Buffy shrugged.

"I am not here to fight you. I am here to help you, Buffy."

"Whoa, whoa, unfair advantage. You know my name. I don't know yours."

His face seemed to crumble in on itself, like a building hit with a wrecking ball. The straight mouth fell down at the corners and the eyebrows drooped down over his eyes, shielding and shadowing them. His shoulders slumped and his arms hung loosely at his sides. From zero to sad puppy in two seconds, the bible salesman looked about as evil as, well, a bible salesman.

"I am Castiel," he admitted flaccidly. "We were once acquainted."

"Uh, okay," Buffy muttered, screwing up her mouth. "Castiel, is it?"

"Yes. I am an angel of the Lord. I have been sent to help you."

"Right," she laughed, dropping her fists and letting her sore body enjoy the moment. "And I'm the Easter Bunny. Honestly, that'd be a better gig, you know? No more First, no more Sunnydale. I probably wouldn't even get thrown through a window by a preacher with a bad case of misogyny."

"I am familiar with this 'First' you mention. It calls itself 'The First Evil.'"

"Yep, that's him, the Big Bad. Just another day in Sunnydale, another apocalypse to squash, another thing to kill."

"This is bigger than Sunnydale, Buffy. This is bigger than you, bigger than your Hellmouth. If you fail here, the world will not recover."

"Hey," she scowled. "I've been fighting the apocalypse for seven years. I think I can handle it without, what, divine intervention?"

"I have information that you will need to win this battle, Slayer. We should work together on this."

"How do I know I can trust you? You don't look like an angel. Shouldn't you have, I don't know, wings and a halo or something? Since when did an angel look like a Mormon?"

His hand flickered, a tiny movement cloaked mostly by the night. The stars went out like shorted light bulbs and the moon faded to black like the last reel on a movie screen. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, but her eyes focused in amazement. The illumination from the windows changed from yellow to shimmering white, casting a hazy glow on the man in front of her. Two shadowed black wings extended from Castiel's shoulders, spreading wide and glorious. The vision lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to turn Buffy's blood cold, to make her shiver like a leaf. The light returned to a dull yellow and the darkness floated away, bringing back the stars.

"So, you're an angel," Buffy breathed. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

Buffy pushed open the front door and removed her coat, scattering a few remaining chunks of broken glass on the floor near the banister. Giles looked up from his seat at the dining room table. Papers covered most of the table's surface, sorted into some kind of orderly chaos. The watcher removed his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt before placing them back on the bridge of his nose.

"Good, you're back, I've been going over this file and…" He paused to look from the Slayer to her guest. Castiel stood stiffly in the foyer, his arms hanging at his sides as if he couldn't figure out what to do with them. His face had a look of determination and, at the same time, confusion.

"Castiel, this is Giles. Giles, Castiel. Did anyone make coffee?" Buffy pushed past them to the kitchen. Moving slowly and unsteadily, she reached for a cup from the cupboard and pulled the pot off the coffee maker. The dredges of caffeinated beverage were cold and stale, but a few tablespoons of sugar and a good nuking would be enough to bring it back to life.

"I'm sorry, Castiel, is it?" Giles blinked, removing his glasses a second time.

"Yes." Castiel replied briefly.

"Buffy? Is that you?" Dawn called from the stairs. Her shoes echoed through the staircase to the kitchen as she ran down.

"In here, Dawn," Buffy called back in reply.

"Where have you been?" Dawn called, stopping at the foot of the stairs to look at Castiel and Giles. Buffy returned from the kitchen, pouring the sweetened drink down her throat. In the warm light, they could see her scrapes and cuts, the pieces of glass that remained embedded in her skin.

"It's no big," Buffy shrugged. "A window got between me and Caleb. It couldn't be rehabilitated."

"Who's the stiff?"

"Castiel, this is Dawn,"

"The key," Castiel said briefly, looking at her.

"Not anymore," Dawn shrugged. "I'm retired."

"Buffy, who is this man?" Giles sighed.

"I am an angel of the Lord. I have been sent to help you in the battle with The First Evil."

"An…angel?" Giles choked, rubbing his glasses a third time.

"Whoa," Dawn blinked.

"I checked. Definitely of the winged variety. I'm going to make more coffee. This stuff is terrible. Giles? Tea?"

"No…no," Giles stammered. "Coffee seems…more appropriate."

When Buffy returned from the kitchen, she found Giles seated at the table over a large, dusty book. Castiel lingered in the corner like an apprehensive statue. Dawn hovered nearby, her arms crossed characteristically over her chest. Buffy set a few cups of coffee on the table, one in front of Giles, another by the edge of the table for the angel. Dawn raised her eyebrows hopefully for her own offering.

"You can have hot cocoa. It's in the cupboard by the microwave." Buffy frowned.

"Pass," Dawn pouted.

"Not exactly a request, Dawnie," Buffy nudged her.

"Oh come on! I'm part of the team!"

"I'll fill you in later. Go."

Dawn moped her way back up the stairs and her bedroom door slammed loudly. The house was quiet for a moment and only the sound of a clock ticking in the living room pierced the silence. Buffy pulled out her chair and sat down uneasily in it. Cradling her coffee cup, she raised her chin to look at Castiel. He was at once calm and anxious, his face a pale mask interrupted only by the strength of emotion in his eyes.

"So spill," Buffy sighed, expelling a breath from her nostrils. "What do you know about The First?"

"It is a demon called Aeshma. Though quite old, it is neither the first evil nor the most powerful."

"Aha!" Giles interrupted, his nose planted in the large book. "Aeshma is the demon of wrath, from the demonology of Zoraster!"

"Aeshma is a high ranking officer in the army of Hell. He commands many legions, armies that fight for him."

"So, the Bringers…" Buffy murmured.

"Are a sect of human followers, imbued with certain powers gained from their pact with the demon. The race of vampires you encountered are another of Aeshma's armies, a race of demonic minions. There are millions of these creatures under Aeshma's control."

"Millions?" Buffy squeaked. She set down her coffee cup.

"Yes."

"So what do we do? How do we kill it?"

"More to the point…what does it want from us?" Giles sighed, closing the book.

"We do not know what Aeshma wants. To find out, we would have to interrogate the demon itself, or perhaps one of its followers. To your question, Buffy, we must cast it back into Hell."

"You make it sound so easy," Buffy muttered.

"It will not be easy. We must find out its weakness."

"Well, we don't have any more time to waste. Giles, where are the girls?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Divine Intervention**

_Chapter 2_

"Buffy, wait," Giles stirred, looking up from his book. He closed it sharply, spreading a cloud of yellow dust into the air. With one hand, he reached out and grabbed for her, catching her by the forearm. "We don't have enough information to go charging off just yet. Let's listen to what else Castiel has to say."

"We don't have time for this Giles! Castiel doesn't know much more than we do. To find out answers, we're going to have to get them from the horse's mouth!"

She shrugged him off and charged out of the dining room. Turning the corner into the kitchen, she took the basement steps two at a time. Anya stood in front of a crowd of young girls, her arms stretched in mimicry of flight. The girls shouted out answers to a game of charades. Faith sat off to one side, exhaling cigarette smoke into the humid basement air. Beside her, Spike stared at the floor, smoking one of his own.

"Sorry, Anya, but I need to cut this short," Buffy frowned, cutting the girls off. "Is everyone here?"

"Dawn's upstairs doing some research with Xander, but other than that," Faith paused, looking around. "I'd say we're all present and accounted for. What's up, B?"

"We have new intel' on The First. Everybody get ready. We're going back to the vineyard."

"What?" The girls cried in unison, their voices like the scared bleating of sheep.

"I'm not going back down there!"

"We got our asses handed to us!"

"You gotta be CRAZY, girl!"

"I wasn't asking," Buffy growled, narrowing her eyes. "We need to find out more about the First and Caleb. The only way we'll get that information is if we go back in. So, we're going."

"No way, B," Faith shook her head as she got up. "Some of our team died in there. We aren't ready to go back in, guns blazing. We don't even have guns to blaze! You know I'm all for a good brawl, but we need to think strategy here."

"This is why you all came here, isn't it? To fight? To beat the First? Well, let's go."

"No," Rona scowled from the back of the room. "I came here for protection, not to get myself killed."

"I'm not your safety net, Rona. Listen, all of you. You came here to fight. You're soldiers in a war and you need to get up on the front line."

"And what are you? The drill sergeant?"

"I'm the Slayer. I'm the only one here that's been through this before."

"Hey now, I've been through this before," Xander spoke up. "Willow and Anya and Spike and Faith? We've all been through this sort of thing before. Don't come in here and tell us you're special because you've been through the apocalypse. We're all diehards here."

"I don't have time to coddle you. I don't have time for this discussion. Kiss your own bruises and tape up your own cuts. This is war and we have a fight to win."

"Which is more important, Buffy?" Willow sighed quietly. "The war or the people that fight it?"

"Willow…" Buffy floundered.

"Don't start on her, Buff. She has a good point. You're treating us all like numbers, like pawns. I've backed you for years, been your soldier on the front line, but this is different. You need to take a step back and look at the people in this army. Stop thinking about the fight and start thinking about us."

"This is bigger than you!" Buffy yelled back at them. "This is bigger than me, it's bigger than all of us. This apocalypse is so big, they sent us a little help from the Big Guy in the Sky. Why did you even bother coming to the Hellmouth? Did you think this would be easy? I've died twice in fights just like this, trying to do my duty, trying to save the world. Do you think this is fun? I know my place in all this and it's time you learned yours. If you're a slayer, if you ever can be a slayer, you have to be a warrior. You have to know that every time you go out in the field, there's a chance you won't come home. You fight and fight and there are no rewards or ticker tape parades or big fat checks. You don't get to take a break and you don't get to wait around until you've caught your breath. I have a world to save. You guys, get back to your game."

Buffy turned around and marched back up the stairs. She grabbed the bag of weapons near the front door and her coat from the banister. The aches and pains of the day faded to the periphery of her mind. There was no time to moan and whine about the glass in her skin or the blood dripping down her leg. Faith caught her by the arm as she reached to shut the front door.

"Buffy, wait!"

"When I come back, they need to be ready." Buffy grimaced at the Slayer. "Make sure they're ready."

Leaving the house, Buffy shouldered her bag and walked quickly down the street. She weaved through town to the outskirts, through the woods to the vineyard tucked away between the trees. Bringers with their weird radar beacons meandered through the forest, completely unaware of each other. They seemed completely aware of trees and bushes though, making tight circles to avoid the obstacles despite their complete lack of visibility. Buffy stopped at the edge of the woods. A hill stretched out over the vineyard below, minions of The First flowing in and out of the doors like streams.

"Here we go," she whispered to herself as she withdrew a sword from the weapons bag. She crept down the hillside, weaving between the trees, sticking to the shadows. Just because the Bringers couldn't see her didn't mean there weren't eyes watching the perimeter. Buffy brushed her fingers along the side wall until she found a small ventilation hole. Super slayer strength was always a blessing, and the sword was already coming in handy. _Good call. _Buffy wedged the blade under the edge of the ventilation grate and yanked, prying it loose. Pushing her weapon down the entrance first, she crawled inside after it and shimmied down the steel corridor.

Cool air bled into the shaft as Buffy squirmed down into the bowels of the wine cellar. With care, she kicked one foot against the grate at the end and wiggled free. The pace of her breathing leveled off to somewhere closer to normal. She hadn't even realized she'd been panting in the small steel tube, but sweat dripped down the sides of her face and her chest hurt. Cramped spaces were definitely not making the list of favorite places to spend some quality alone time. Picking up her sword, Buffy sank behind a stand of wine barrels. A single voice, deep and twanging, spoke to the otherwise empty room.

"Silly girl, thinking she can defeat us," Caleb chuckled. "She's going to be some sight, sprawled out on the floor, bleedin' 'til she's dry."

There was a pause, as if he was listening to the other end of some silent conversation.

"You have taught me the way, and soon, she'll see it too. She'll see the way, and she will die. That's what happens to girls like her."

"Will you do it again? Will you fill me with your divinity? I just can't get enough of it. I am blessed."

Buffy stared over the edge of a barrel as Caleb stood still, his arms outstretched, his chin slightly dipped toward his black cloth chest. His body went rigid and then loosened again, though the force by which it occurred was transparent. He lifted his head again and an eerie smile painted his dull lips. His eyes were black, staring out of his unblinking lids. The sword fell from Buffy's hand and clattered to the floor. She swore under her breath and clamored to retrieve it.

"Slayer," Caleb grinned, "You truly are a naughty girl."

"What can I say?" Buffy smirked, swinging the weapon in her hand as she moved to approach him. _No way out of it now. Might as well face the music. _"I can't get enough of you."

The sword looped through the air as she handled it, getting in one good swing before Caleb's arm swung out and threw her across the room, striking her in the shoulder. Buffy flew heavily against the nearest wall, smacking it hard before she crumbled to the ground. It took her a minute to get back on her feet, to face the thing inside Caleb again. His eyes glowed with an absence of light and he grinned merrily at her, not even breaking a sweat.

"Is that all you have in you, Slayer?" He chuckled.

"Not quite," Buffy scowled, spitting blood on the floor as she pushed herself back up. Caleb grinned and struck her again, crashing one arm across her shoulders like a hammer. Buffy slammed and bounced on the concrete. She rolled pathetically to one side, groaning.

"You disappoint me, Slayer."

"Don't be disappointed, Aeshma. She is not alone." Castiel growled, appearing between them as Caleb reached down to grab her from the floor. He reached for the outstretched hand and threw Caleb aside, smashing him into a stack of empty wine barrels. Caleb paused briefly, just long enough for Castiel to reach down and touch his fingers to Buffy's bloody forehead.

"Okay," Buffy murmured blurrily as she opened her eyes. "Ow."

"Buffy," Castiel breathed. He pulled a strip of damp cloth away from her forehead and looked down into her face, his eyes steeped in concern.

"Well, I'm not dead. Death doesn't hurt this much. I know. I've done it."

"No, you are not dead. I brought you back to the house. There is much commotion downstairs. I do not think they know we are here."

"Tell me I learned something," Buffy groaned, leaning up on one elbow.

"What did you see?"

"I saw Caleb talking to himself, and then his eyes went all black. After that, it all gets a bit hazy."

"His eyes went black?"

"That's what I said."

"You learned something," Castiel smiled the first smile she'd ever seen on his face. She'd thought he was only capable of sad puppy and nothing. This was an improvement over both.

"What did I learn?"

"We'll talk about it in the morning. You need to rest, Buffy."

"I need to…" Buffy frowned. She gazed up into those incredible eyes of his, the first thing she'd noticed when she met him the first time. Had it only been a few hours ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

His hand felt warm and soft beneath her fingertips, and she felt the sudden urge to pull him closer. For an angel, he was fairly approachable, familiar. He'd said something about how they knew each other once. He'd said they'd meet again.

"Cas?" Buffy blinked, as though seeing him for the first time all over again. He'd aged a little, grown a little, changed a little. The small wrinkles around his eyes were new and he'd filled out, grown a slight muscular frame. Still, it was the same man, the same angel. She'd known him before. She'd loved him before.

"Ssh, rest Buffy," Castiel frowned, dabbing at her wounds with a ball of cotton. He turned to look into her busted face, her bloodshot eyes, her split and swollen lip. The recognition in her eyes took no time to spot. She saw him.

"I remember you. Where do I remember you from?"

"Heaven," Castiel whispered, framing her cheek with his hand. "You remember me from Heaven."

"Shouldn't you be there then, waiting for me to come back? If I keep on this way, it won't be long." Buffy cracked a painful grin.

"I was promoted," Castiel chuckled, though his eyes seemed shadowed and dark at the thought of it.

"Lucky you,"

"Yes. Lucky."


	3. Chapter 3

**Divine Intervention**

_Chapter 3_

She awakened suddenly from a restless slumber and sat up against the bed pillows, her blankets wrapped and knotted around her legs. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily. The dream wasn't so much a surprise as it was a vivid realization of things to come- a prophetic reminder of things she already knew. It was still dark out and the clock on the night stand revealed that it was only ten past three in the morning. She'd managed a few hours, a few hours dreaming about being awake. Great. Castiel sat in a chair near the edge of the bed, his eyes closed, and his body in stiff repose. He didn't move, not even to breathe. Did angels need to breathe? Staring at him in the darkness, she finally caught a slight rustle, his chest rising and falling so minimally that it should have been invisible. Okay, so…angels did need to breathe.

Buffy swung her legs over the edge of the bed and moved to stand. Her muscles ached and her skin hurt. Though she hadn't spent much time looking in a mirror lately, she was sure that the pain in her body was reflected on her flesh. There were bruises on her arms, her legs, and probably her face. It didn't matter now. If her dreams were any indication of times to come (_and they are)_, she wouldn't have to worry about facing the healing process. The chips would fall and she'd bounce back up to Heaven, where time stood still. Mom was still alive. She was a cheerleader, happy, lots of friends, a promising school career. Now that she remembered it, it seemed like a fantasy dream come true. She looked back at Castiel, quietly seated, somewhere between conscious rest and unconscious sleep. Would he still be there? Could they start where they'd left off?

The hall was empty and silent in the midst of the night. Buffy padded quietly down to the bathroom and pushed open the door. She flicked on the light and stood in front of the large mirror, her green eyes fixed on the image reflecting back. Her face was cut and bruised, her lip bloody, one eye swollen, dried blood dripping from one ear. Attractive. If there was a slayer beauty contest, she'd win, hands down. The shower looked so inviting. There were towels on the back of the toilet and a vase full of lavender blooms on the sink. Even though it was early, far too early, Buffy climbed over the basin's edge and turned on the water.

Ribbons of scalding water fell down over her shoulders and neck, dampening her hair, flushing out her wounds. She opened her hands under the spray and let the water rush out between her splayed fingers. It stung her open cuts, her broken and splintered body, but the feeling was a rush-a sudden realization of life. Sometimes she forgot that she was alive at all. Maybe she was just lingering in limbo, dancing between death and life, waiting for one or the other to take advantage of her confused situation. Whatever she'd learned under Caleb's incredibly strong fist, it would help push her into something other than this. She wouldn't have to wallow anymore. She wouldn't have to straddle the line. The decision would be made for her. She'd live with it, or die with it. At this point, neither option seemed more appealing.

Squeezing a sponge in her hands, Buffy cascaded more water down her chest while the shower head massaged her shoulder blades. If she closed her eyes, she'd see the dreams again, the visions unique to a Slayer's mind. They were no picnic. She kept her eyes open but cast down to the porcelain tub. Flecked nail polish looked dull on her toenails. Long ago, the red polish had been picked clean from her broken fingernails. Half-heartedly, she grabbed the shampoo off the edge of the tub and poured it into her hand. The relaxing atmosphere was already fading. Nothing lasted so long anymore.

Wrapping a towel around her frame, Buffy walked back to the end of the hall. She switched on the light automatically, filling the room with a fine yellow din.

"Buffy," Castiel said gently from the chair.

"Ooh, sorry," Buffy frowned, switching the light off again. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I don't sleep. How are you feeling?"

"Yeah, I hear you." Buffy grimaced. "I'm…well, I'm fine. No big. I'll heal."

"It's still quite early." Castiel frowned, looking at the alarm clock.

"Yeah, but I couldn't sleep. Freaky dreams. Besides, we have a battle to fight. We should be working on that. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed in her towel. Her wet hair dripped down her back and soaked into the comforter.

"You said I learned something…with Caleb's weird black eye thing."

"That wasn't Caleb that you saw. It was the demon, Aeshma. It was inside Caleb's body."

"Invasion of the Body Snatchers?"

Castiel stared blankly at her, confusion painted plainly on his face.

"It's a movie. Come on, even I have time to watch stupid B movies with my friends. Okay, I used to have time. I don't seem to have much time to do anything anymore."

"Demons and angels must inhabit a body when they come to earth. Each demon or angel has a specific person or sometimes a few people they can inhabit. Most angels cannot be seen by humans. Demons can be seen, and you have seen some in their true form, but others… well, it is easier for them to move around unnoticed in their vessel."

"So…you're an angel," Buffy frowned.

"Yes. This body that you see is a vessel. It is not what I truly look like."

"In Heaven, you looked a lot like this. Younger, but pretty much the same."

"I borrowed the features of my vessel in order to be seen by you."

"So what do you really look like?"

"I cannot explain it to you in words that you would understand."

"Right." Buffy scowled. "So, Caleb's a vessel."

"You're angry."

"No. I'm not angry. I'm just… well, you come off sounding like an ass."

"Why?"

"Because…you're acting all superior. My tiny human brain can't understand your perfect angelic body or whatever so you have to look like Jo Bible Salesman in order to get me in a prom dress."

"Buffy, I…" Castiel blinked, trying to back pedal.

"Save it. Tell me about Caleb and the Asthma demon."

"Aeshma."

"Yeah, him."

"Aeshma is not visible to you or anyone on this plane. I can see its true visage, should it decide to reveal itself. It has not yet. However, in order to physically attack you, Aeshma must inhabit its vessel. It binds itself to the soul of the vessel and can use the body like a puppet. The soul of the human can see what is happening but it cannot do anything about it."

"So Aeshma is in Caleb's body and using him to hand my ass to me on a silver plate."

"Yes."

"Awesome. So how do we kill it?"

Wailing alarm clocks sounded around the house at six o'clock and the Scoobies gathered at the kitchen table, groggily preparing bowls of toasted oat bran and slightly off milk. Shipments of food hadn't come into Sunnydale in about a week. It was as if the whole world knew that they were about to be wiped off the map. Why waste all those yummy fresh vegetables and tasty milk? Buffy lingered in the dining room, hovering near the kitchen table. Xander stared at an unpeeled banana while Willow looked glumly at a chunk of cheese in the middle of her cereal bowl. Dawn munched on fruit loops straight out of the box, and Giles lifted a cup of tea to his dry lips.

"I had a dream," Buffy started tentatively.

"If you tell me we're all going to hold hands and hug the demon, I'm going to throw this banana at you." Xander scowled.

"Don't worry. We're going to kick its ass, Xander. It's going to be tough, really tough. And the thing is… we're not all going to live to talk about the next day."

"So this is a suicide mission…" Willow gulped.

"Yes. I want to make it clear, crystal clear, that we're going in packing and we probably won't come back out again."

"It's the Slayer way," Faith piped up as she slid into the dining room, a bag of potato chips in her hand.

"So, what's the plan?"

Buffy raised a cup of coffee to her lips, took one long sip, and set the mug heavily down on the table. Castiel looked to her, a heavy book clasped in his hands. He set it on the table, opening it to a page covered with circles and magic symbols. Without speaking, he placed one finger on the left-hand page.

"This is the most powerful Devil's Trap ever published. It will require a very powerful sorcerer to work it."

"Will, that's you," Buffy grunted.

"Me? No way, Buffy, I'm…I don't do that kind of thing anymore. The veins and the black hair and the whole scary vengeance thing?"

"We need you, Willow. Everyone has their strengths and this is yours. We need you to study this spell, draw the trap, and work it. Giles, you're in with Willow. As soon as you trap Aeshma, you'll exorcise it."

"Exorcise it? Like Olivia Newton John's 'Let's Get Physical' or like Split Pea Soup Tubular Bells?"

"Last night, Caleb literally drop-kicked me into a wall. He almost killed me. He shouldn't have that kind of power. Now we know why. Caleb is the demon's vessel. The demon can use Caleb like a big walking, talking body suit."

"Of course!" Giles chimed in, slamming his hand on the table. All eyes turned to blink at him. "It all makes so much sense. Caleb should not have inhuman strength. He is possessed. I should have seen it before!"

"Anyway," Buffy muttered. "We're going to trap Caleb in this Devil's Trap and Willow and Giles are going to crack Caleb open and toss Aeshma back into Hell where he belongs."

"What's to say Asthma guy won't get back out again, B? He's done it before."

"Seal it up," Spike sighed, looking in on the powwow.

"Exactly. Xander, you're up for this. Figure out a way to blow Sunnydale sky high. Seal up the cracks and wipe this whole town off the map."

"Wow…" Andrew breathed in the corner of the room. He stopped shoveling cereal into his mouth for the occasion.

"And take Andrew with you," Giles grunted.

"What about you? Faith? The potentials?" Dawn whispered in the background.

"We're going in. We have to force Caleb into the trap. The only way to do it is to face the hoard, to go down into Hell and beat back Aeshma's legions."

"Are you kidding me?" Dawn squeaked. "They'll kill you!"

"Probably," Buffy shrugged. "But that's the price you pay sometimes."

They gathered in the living room, fifty young women with terror painted on their faces. Some of them fondled weapons- knives and stakes, axes and swords. Others still wore their cartoon pajamas, their hair in plaits, their glasses pushed up their noses. They were a ragtag bunch of hopefuls, women as unsure of their roles as Buffy had once been. Those days were long behind her, and soon, they would be behind these girls as well. Some of these faces would never light a room again. What would Heaven be like for them? Would they dance in pretty prom dresses and kiss their own angels? Would they see the faces of their parents, know that everyone was safe, be happy and carefree and loved? She couldn't think about that now.

"Today, we're going into battle. I can see that some of you are ready, or think you're ready. Most of you are smart. You're not ready. But you know what? You never will be ready. I'm the Slayer. I wasn't asked if I was ready to face the monsters and the darkness. I wasn't asked if I'd rather be a cheerleader and go to my prom with a nice and happy boyfriend who didn't drink blood. You can never be ready to march down into the darkness, knowing that you might not come back out on the other side. Today, I need you to do it anyway. Think about the people you love and how important it is that they make it out alive. Sacrifice yourself for them. Their lives are in your hands, the same way your lives are in my hands. We're heroes. We don't get to be happy, but we can see the happiness in everyone around us. Maybe that seems sorta wrong to you. Maybe it seems unfair. But you know what? On the other side, they make up for it. Trust me. I've seen it. Today, they need you to be strong. They need you to fight. They need you to stand up for their safety and their dreams and their simple happy lives.

I won't lie to you. Some of you may not see the sunset again. Some of you might go into the mouth of Hell and never come back out. But I'm with you. Faith is with you. We're standing side by side in this and it's the power of our hearts that will win the day. Be strong. Work hard. Fight and win. We can do this. We don't have a choice."

Wielding a heavy sword, Buffy descended into the Seal, an army of fifty young women behind her. Among them stood an angel and a vampire, their jaws set, their faces stalwart. She turned to them, her eyes narrowed, a few wisps of blond hair falling across her broken face.

"This is it," she said firmly. "There's no turning back."

"How will Willow know when to start the spell?" Molly asked from the back of the crowd.

"Castiel will leave the ranks to tell her. He's the only one that can pop in and out. We can't risk someone trying to run for it."

"Time to go, B," Faith urged her.

"What do they say in that movie? Never back down. Never surrender." Carrie giggled among the ranks.

Without another word, they descended into the open seal, a wave of impassioned young women fighting for the survival of the world. They moved stealthily in the darkness, the gaping jaw of the Hellmouth. A cliff stretched out over a chasm, where legions of ubervamps bristled as they waited to attack. Caleb stood among them, his eyes glistening black like slivers of cold obsidian. A rock trembled and fell down the cliff face, alerting the soldiers below to the small invading army above. It was on. Buffy swung her sword, turning the hilt over in her hand. Beside her, Castiel glowered, his startling blue eyes alight with rage. The Potentials hovered fearfully, a tidal wave of anxiety hanging from their shoulders. The clang of metal against armor alerted them. Faith was under attack at the edge of the precipice.

"ATTACK!" Buffy yelled.

They rushed into action, each girl lifting her weapon. Buffy tried to push them out of her mind, to focus on the task at hand. She had to corner the demon, to push it into place. The legions of vampires surrounded her, crushing hot air around her. Castiel barreled away, stuck under the ripping claws of two sturdy animals. Buffy swung the sword, twisting it ruthlessly as it came down on the shoulder of a vampire. He roared in anger but remained mostly uninjured. Screams rose up from the chaos. A few roars echoed their cries.

"Are you going to stand there like a coward, Aeshma?" Buffy called, shoving her blade through the neck of a vampire. It disintegrated at her feet. "Are you afraid to face me?"

"Afraid?" Caleb laughed, stepping up onto the cliff, his mouth turned up in a jovial grin. "Why should I be afraid of you, Slayer? You bring an army of children to fight me."

"No one came to fight you but me," Buffy growled, crouching in a fighting stance.

"Is that so? Is all this some sort of decoy? My army will slaughter yours and overrun the Earth."

"Talk talk talk. Is that all you know how to do?"

"I think you've forgotten where you got that black eye, Slayer." Caleb laughed.

His arm rolled out from where it crossed his chest, moving to swat at her like a fly. Buffy lifted her sword, blocking the hit and sending him careening backward. Caleb raised one sculpted eyebrow over his black stare. He might have looked amused if his jaw wasn't stapled into a scowl. Buffy whirled around and threw a good, strong kick, throwing him back across the cliff. Caleb advanced as soon as he recovered himself, pitching her back into the crowd of ubervamps. One tore away from the mass and ripped at her, pulling her to the ground. Buffy hit the floor hard, her breath escaping from her chest. She closed her eyes and struggled to breathe. Feet stamped the ground around her and from here, she could hear the screams of Potentials echoing across the floor. A body fell near her and blood spilled across the dusty ground. Buffy raised her chin to look into Rhoda's vacant eyes.

The vampire roared and tore at Buffy's flesh, as if attempting to peel her skin from her body. She screamed as its razor-sharp claws pierced her from shoulder to hip. Castiel scrambled across the chaos and tore the animal free of her, its head coming free of its body.

"Poor baby," Caleb chuckled near her ear, crouching amongst the feet of vampires and Potentials. "Can't stand up?"

"Go to Hell," Buffy hissed, pushing a hand under her body.

"I've been. Now that I'm out, I'm thinking about going to Disneyland."

"Sorry," Buffy grunted, finally finding her footing. Blood ran down from the wound, staining her clothes a rusty reddish brown. "Vacation's been canceled."

Claiming the sword a second time, Buffy struggled to her feet. She tore at Caleb, thrashing the air with the blade. Caleb stretched out his hand and grabbed it, ripping the sword from her hands. Castiel lingered behind her, his neck stretched out eagerly. The fighting seemed to slow as the demon took another step backward. Screams stretched out in agony. Roaring moans from fallen vampires fell short of the expressions of the Potentials. Buffy drew back her fist and threw a solid punch, shoving him back a few more steps. She craned her neck to Castiel and he blinked out of the cave.

"Make sure you tell your buddies in Hell that I sent you home," Buffy smirked.

"A Devil's Trap, eh Slayer? Don't have the balls to kill me yourself?"

"Why deprive you of your own mopey suffering, Aeshma? You can wallow in self pity until the end of time."

"Do you think this is the end? This is only the beginning." Caleb smiled a knowing sort of grin. "Look at your army, Slayer. They've fallen. Their blood washes the mouth of Hell and you put it there. You failed them. And I have triumphed."

Buffy turned to look at them, the bodies that littered the ground. Faith and Spike stood near the back, up to their elbows in vampires, the only soldiers left. Some of the vamps had stopped for a snack, feasting on the innocent blood of the Potentials, their bodies little more than lumps of cold flesh. A shudder went through her, starting at the head and falling like rain through her body. She looked back over her shoulder at the demon, grinning, laughing, as he threw back Caleb's head and spilled from his open mouth. A cloud of black smoke condensed in the air and flew down, back into the Pit.

"B! Come on! Let's roll!" Faith screamed at her as she looked vacantly at the fallen body of Caleb. He crumbled to the ground as Aeshma retreated, but he continued to laugh. He laughed until he choked, coughed, gasped for air.

"You stupid girl," he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know what you've done."

The bus rolled out of town as successive bombs exploded, one after the next, down the center of Main Street. Ashes coiled up from the streets and houses collapsed into the broken hills of the Hellmouth. Giles careened the vehicle, each blast throwing off their course. Spike huddled under a thick black blanket, blocking out the last remains of daylight. Dawn held a compress to Faith's side where a vamp had sliced open her gut. Willow stared out the back window at the remains of the town.

"Giles! Stop! We're clear!" Xander called out, putting a hand on Giles' shoulder. The brakes screamed as they pulled to a halt.

"Sorry, I…" Giles mumbled. He pulled off his glasses and wiped them on his dusty shirt.

"You guys, we gotta get Faith to a hospital," Dawn frowned.

"I'm fine, kid," Faith coughed.

"Buffy…" Willow started as she watched Buffy hop down the stairs and step off onto the cooling asphalt.

Sunnydale stretched out like a chasm in every direction, a suture on a festering wound. Her eyes were dry and stinging. Her flesh felt dull and lifeless. The weight on her shoulders was difficult to bear, but she couldn't drop it. Something had happened there on that cliff, when Caleb's worn face had stared into hers. The thing that they'd sent screaming back to Hell wasn't their enemy. It had all been a game, a set-up, a joke.

"I can't do it again," Buffy whispered to the abyss. "There's too much blood on my hands."

"Buffy, it's over. It's over." Castiel murmured beside her.

"It's over." She crossed her arms over her chest and let the arid wind pick her bloody hair up off her shoulders. "I'm done."


End file.
